


Resurrection

by nicxlas



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, F/F, F/M, M/M, Performance Art, Slow Burn, artsy grimmjow, artsy ichigo, dancing and painting, everyone is artsy in some way, idiot bois
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-05-12 14:36:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19231105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicxlas/pseuds/nicxlas
Summary: Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez is a dance major specializing in dance improvisation. Currently researching for a dance piece called Pantera, Grimmjow reluctantly follows the flow of life to find an artist and collaborate. Ichigo Kurosaki is a visual arts major taking dance improvisation because his counselor said he has to take another class, while simultaneously juggling ideas for his midterms and finals art projects. Mutual sparks fly when both artists are given access to their Inner Worlds they so greatly protect.





	1. Their First Day

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Grimmichi Day! After returning to Bleach since 2012, it's been a blast coming back to a series that taught me so much and brought joy since childhood (watching the series on adult swim, meeting other anime fans, etc). It's a bittersweet feeling overall, but I'm so happy nonetheless.
> 
> I also never thought I'd writer fanfiction again after high school, but alas, here I am writing a fanfic of two of my favorite characters in bleach. In this AU they are artists within the dance and visual art community which I am also a part of within my town. 
> 
> A goal of mine with this fanfic besides the pleasure of writing is to also spread my knowledge and love of dance and visual art, two core artforms of mine that I strive to create with. Sharing the love of collaboration, understanding, and empathy. I suppose the dynamics of Patti Smith and Robert Mapplethorpe, as well as Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera inspires this piece as well (mostly the former). What is the dynamic between two artists, how they arrive and create together? What are the obstacles and how does one overcome insecurity, jealousy, selfishness, and other emotions that blockade creative flow and urgency? How does one arrive into a dance, how does one arrive to pick up a brush a paint? How does one execute ideas into reality?
> 
> Those are some of the more serious questions that come to mind as I've been writing this, but of course there's the fluff here and there! 
> 
> Tags will be updated as chapters continue.

‘Everything / everywhere,  
Striking alternates;  
realities,  
Sticking to our own, breaking,  
Here, turning high tides  
to sway away the ever shining lights that lead the ride.

Ride to heaven.

Hell.’

He settles the pen on top of the newly developed piece of poetry in his journal. Warm, cinnamon eyes examine the changing colors of late afternoon to evening. Orange and blues mixing into white clouds, absorbing color. This must be what Monet had seen during his living days. Mother Nature creating beautiful pieces of art all around us. The orange haired student smiles to himself, relaxing his elbows on the table with his chin resting on clasped hands. 

He recalls earlier days of his youth back in high school when friends would comment on how the sunset appreciates Ichigo’s face more than anyone else, as though he’s the God of Sun itself. Apollo taking on a human form, and Ichigo Kurosaki is that. He totally disagreed with them. The thought of being a god turned him off completely. He’s not THAT egotistical. He’s got a healthy enough ego to survive the art scene. Doesn’t need a god complex to ruin that. 

With a snort of laughter and a shake of his head, he collects his belongings and packs them into his backpack. Grasping his sketchbook that couldn’t fit, he swings his legs around the long table bench and high tails it outta there. Classes are done for the first day. Already, he needs to start a sketchbook that will be graded, as well as outline a research paper for a GE and other miscellaneous assignments. A harsh wind breezes through making the ginger huff out a breath and zip on his tight, long jacket. Wearing his favorite black jeans and adidas shoes payed off, as well as Goat-Face’s lucky charm that was given during his last birthday. 

Running his free hand through orange locks, cinnamon eyes spot the sight of a dark blue haired male wearing metal glasses and a long coat as well as a long, copper ginger haired female wearing a fluffy jacket and skinny jeans down the hill. Making a beeline to them he greets them with a wave and smile, and they all give quick embraces to each other. As they talk, Ichigo searches through his wallet for two dollars and twenty-five cents for the bus they all take. Without disruption to routine, they all go inside and take seats, chatting up about their first day of their third year in college with mild enthusiasm and possible dread.

Blue has taken over the skies, orange creeping into the horizon. The sun slowly descending under the line. Night time encompasses the campus, artificial lights switching on for late night students. 

Quick TAP TAP TAP of shoes meeting concrete descend down the hill. Holding a duffle bag on one shoulder with his backpack secured on his back, a blue haired man skids to a stop as he reaches the bus stop. Catching his breath, he sets his bag on the bench, counting change for the bus. Thank god for these legs, body in general. Thank god for the hours upon hours of movement he devotes himself to for art. He wouldn’t have made the bus stop in time if he wasn’t athletic to some degree. Cold air nips onto the pale skin underneath his loose tank top and shorts, making the blue haired man rummage through his duffle bag labeled ‘G. Jaegerjaquez’ on the side with the same shade of blue, pulling out a long sleeve sweater. He puts it on just in time as the bus pulls up, the last one for the day. 

Upon paying and settling into a seat facing forward, he puts the duffle bag on the free seat beside him since late night buses don’t have a lot of travelers. Almost at a point of relaxation the dancer jumps from a breath behind his neck. He shifts to turn his upper body around, almost executing a perfect punch, if it wasn’t for the other to quickly dodge to the side, lifting both hands in mock surrender. 

“Relax, big guy! Just playin’.” 

“Tsk. Shut up, Nnoi. Don’t need that shit right now.”

“Just keeping you on your toes, Grimmy.” Nnoitra leans into his seat, one visible eye watching through the window.

“I’ve been doing that this whole day!” The complaint slips out of Grimmjow’s lips, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Ballet must SUCK.”

“Not my cup of tea... Can’t wait for tomorrow, THAT’S my bread and butter.” 

“I heard Ikkaku will be there too.”

“With Yumichika?” Grimmjow’s answer is in a form of a nod, and he snorts in return. “Man, they’re fucking inseparable. Ikkaku isn’t even a dance major.”

“It’s not a popular class.”

“I'd take that class over anything else.” Grimmjow mutters, sliding down the seat to relax even further. Azure eyes catch sight of the growing dark blues of the night sky. Conversation turns into comfortable silence as Nnoitra now and then pats Grimmjow’s head with a grin, a returned swat to said hand every time. Good god Nnoitra never stops annoying him. Then again, their dynamic hasn't failed them yet. The duo gets off the bus after it passes Seireitei and enters a bus that goes through Hueco Mundo, more east of Karakura Town to get back to their shared apartment.

Karakura Community College: The main campus of the district, with Sereitei City College and Las Noches Community College as the other two for the town. All three are connected, helping students get the education they need to either transfer, get an AA, certificates, or other avenues of life. Even tuition is less expensive especially for residents. 

With the new semester starting everything is within a vacuum of a frenzy. Buzzing energies all around with students meeting others, connecting with faculty, getting everything settled for these 16 weeks of heaven, hell, and/or purgatory. Depends on how the semester goes.


	2. Starting Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ignore the ends notes in this chapter, I don't know why but it used last chapters end notes.
> 
> anyway, when I said sooner, I meant the next day lol
> 
> Chapters will be updated Sundays or Mondays (hopefully).

"Shit-!" Ichigo curses under his breath with a rough shake of his head.  
Heavily sighing, he rubs his forehead. Orihime and Uryuu glance at each, worrying lingering in their eyes.

"What's wrong, Ichigo? You made sure you had all your materials for sketching today." 

"Not that, Orihime- Look at me!" The ginger gestures his hands frantically up and down his body. A regular maroon long sleeve shirt and black pants. He only gets confused expressions in return. Once again today, he sighs. "... The dance class. I'm too casual!"

The woman opens her mouth in an 'o' shape with lifted brows, though Uryuu adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Kurosaki, I believe you'll be okay. It's not, for instance, ballet."

"I would die in that class."

"Exactly. You will be fine."

The 'comforting' words from his friends doesn't reach his anxious heart that keeps beating uncontrollably non-stop. Ichigo curls his shoulders inward, relaxing his elbows on the shared table outside one of the dance buildings on campus. He checks his smart phone: 12:30 pm. Fifteen more minutes until his extra curricular class starts, titled 'Dance Improvisation.' He would never have thought to taken a dance class until his counselor pointed out to him to 'broaden his horizons,' even though he's selected a major. Granted, it's possible to become a multi-media artist, but his bulls-eye has always been the art museums, comics and manga; traditional art. Though pretentious to a certain degree, maybe he can help change that image during his life time. 

Another phrase catches his attention, from Yuzu and Karin, of all people. When they got word of the new class he chosen, they helped direct his dreading mindset to connect with his early childhood. He took martial arts when he was a little boy with Tatsuki, another dear friend of his, although she's on a scholarship out of city. Yuzu pointed out that maybe he can connect two and two together. Ichigo nods to himself, letting his forehead rest against his arms as Orihime and Uryuu talk about fashion and delicious treats she's going to make during his pastry class. 

Ichigo's eyes open wide, sounds of VROOM VROOM awakening the ginger as he catches his vibrating phone that alarms him at 12:40 pm. Five more minutes... Orihime giggles while covering her mouth, along with Uryuu giving him a shake of disapproval. Ichigo softly pouts to the duo, grabbing his belongings and wishing them a good rest of their day before he heads inside the building. 

Entering the two story building, he ventures into the first floor with six doors, three on each side of the hall. His eyes scan each room number, making sure he's in the right dance building, before he enters Room 6. He takes a deep breath upon seeing only a few students in the studio so far, taking refuge to the shelving on the left corner and inputting his backpack in one of them. The ginger takes off his shoes, settling down on the ground as he watches a couple of people stretch in the middle of the studio. He spots a duo to his right, a few feet away, talking to each other. Within the next five minutes, it quickly becomes a reunion that Ichigo just wants to leave. This isn't his space. This isn't where he belongs. He could just drop the class, right? This class definitely isn't required for his art major. The ginger just keeps to himself on the floor, sometimes glancing around to observe. 

His eyes widen towards the middle of the studio. Blue. Electric blue hair, deep royal blue t-shirt, with the short sleeves rolled up, and black sweats with the ankles rolled up as well. His brows furrow, cinnamon eyes watching this blue-haired man maneuver from one stretch to another, as if these stances were part of a choreography or something... Suddenly, the blue haired man lies down on the floor, chatting up a handsome male duo who's just sitting beside him. With the swing of his leg, he completes a roll onto his side, pushing into a standing position. Such fluid movement. Ichigo glances away with a faint heat among his cheeks as the trio walk towards him. The blue-haired man reaches into his bag that's a couple of shelves above Ichigo's bag, completely ignoring the ginger.

"Class is starting!" A booming female voice captures the eyes and ears of everyone, turning their attention to gaze upon Yoruichi Shihoin, who's in a tight fitted orange jacket and black leggings. Barefoot. Her purple hair is up in a high pony-tail, his lips in a devious grin with a pair of shining yellow eyes as side kicks. "Everyone, get into a circle center." Ichigo follows everyone's path for now, sitting in between a bubbly long green haired female, with possibly a bigger chest than even Orihime, and a male who probably just walked out of Paris Fashion Week with his braided hairstyle and embellished eyebrows and lashes. Ichigo keeps to himself, though he smiles briefly as the green haired woman who waves at him with a beaming smile. There's a loud clap that grabs everyone's attention from idle chatter, pairs of eyes on Yoruichi, who's also sitting in the circle. 

"Hello everyone! Most of you know me, some of you don't. My name is Yoruichi Shihoin and I will be your professor for dance improvisation. We will have guests come and go during the semester, but I will introduce them when the time comes. I've been a dancer most of my life as well as other artistic hobbies. Improvisation, though, always caught my eye, and I've worked with other brilliant dancers and professors from around the country. If any of you have a question, don't hesitate to ask! This is a lab, a workshop, a space to explore. Do what you will with it. You've all read the syllabus, so I won't go into much detail at the moment. For now, let's each say our name and why we're here." Figured much… His eyes glance around to catch any details, when cinnamon eyes meet azure. Ichigo catches sight of the blue-haired man's face: softly scowl, brows furrowed, his body relaxed. 

"Name's Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. I just wanna dance." Those piercing eyes stray for a moment, glancing absentmindedly somewhere until they land onto brown, autumn eyes of Ichigo. Ichigo hears a Yumichika, Cirucci, Ikkaku, Candice... Others, though his mind is a bit preoccupied. The cheerful voice of Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck finally breaks Ichigo from the penetrating spell, making him turn and see Nel. He sees her turn to him with an indicating nod. Ichigo clears his throat. "Uh, hi. I'm Kurosaki Ichigo," he scratches the back of his head, "I'm an art major... I guess I'm here to, just... make art." He shrugs over with a light smile, seeing others nod over to him. Ichigo catches Grimmjow's gaze again... Has he been looking at him the entire time? 

His eyes widen at the thought before Yoruichi claps her hands once more, signaling everyone to stand, instructing to walk around the space. Thank god, he wouldn't last another no-blinking contest, if that's what it was... Ichigo walks around the space, glancing at others who move sharply or turn more circular, creating soft curves on their path. No one is walking in one pattern, taking the opportunity to travel to every inch of the space. The muscles in Ichigo's body relax, tuning into the rhythm of his own walk, feeling each step he takes: heel, toe, step, heel toe step. Feeling the shift go left to right, his arms naturally sway up and down in opposite to his stepping foot. Yes... Yes? YES. The word sings in his mind in sweet melodies as he continues his journey around the studio. This has got to be best warm up ever. Walking. Something simplistic. Meditative. So within our evolution, grounding ourselves back to reality.

The reality short lived as Ichigo feels the slightest shoulder-to-shoulder contact he's ever felt. His eyes catch a grin from Grimmjow as he passes by. What the hell?!

"Jaegerjaquez, no contact yet! That's later this week."

Ichigo turns softly, seeing Grimmjow nod over to the professor. He shakes his head to himself, ignoring the blue-haired dancer during the exercise. It's all he tries to do this whole damn class. Ignore Grimmjow. Something in his gut turns, the heavy feeling in his stomach occupying his thoughts about what the fuck Grimmjow is even doing. Why did he stare so long? Why did he try to get his attention? And now, he's not doing shit. These thoughts keep occupying him until the last second of class where everyone thanks the professor and each other for a good first day. What a demanding Tuesday this is. Despite any distractions, such as a bubbly Nel going up to Ichigo to start conversation, he only smiles and bids farewell before he darts out of class. Ichigo can feel those same piercing eyes behind him.

Grimmjow snorts as he watches the ginger leave, putting on his shoes and packing for the trip home. 

“You didn’t have to tease the kid.” A low whisper knocks Grimmjow out of his spacing, glancing to his side. Nel, in a dark olive sweater, black leggings and tan sandals and just arrived Nnoitra, in his usual white adidas jacket, black jeans and vans shoes: The Peanut Gallery. Grimmjow rolls his eyes, quickly grabbing his duffle bag and carries it over his shoulder. 

“Wasn’t teasin’. Just playin’.” 

“Same thing, Grimmy...” Nel murmurs over with a soft pout, exiting the studio first. Nnoitra nods slightly in agreement towards Grimmjow before he follows the green haired woman, leaving poor Grimmjow in the dust, having to catch up with the two. They exit the building, meeting the cooling air of the afternoon. Clouds reign the skies once more. Soon enough they pass by the busy cafeteria building.

“It was just to get his attention. See how well he responds to the space around him.” Total bull.

“That’s not the point. Didn’t you hear what he said about himself? He’s a VISUAL ART major. Fine Arts!” Nel claps her hands twice as she says ‘visual art,’ her light brown eyes hardening with seriousness. Grimmjow blinks with brows furrowing in soft confusion. Nel's shoulders fall in defeat, sighing in aggravation. “Grimmy. You need a visual artist for your performance!”

“Oh-!“ Grimmjow makes an X with his arms over his chest, “-fuck no! Sorry sweetie, not that guy.” He shakes his head with a laugh of disbelief. “That kid working with me? He doesn’t even know shit.”

“Well you’re going to find out in class, silly!” 

While this conversation continues in resemblance to sibling rivalry, Nnoitra's irritated eye glance around the campus, with his hands clasping behind his head to relax as he walks. The trio journey under the sun high up in the blue sky, vanquishing the clouds that tried to conquer the skies a few minutes ago. They settle on a table near the quad, with the two dancers still duking it out over the orange haired artist. Nnoitra shakes his head with a grin, promptly softly chewing his tongue (a bad habit he picked up while he was a little child, and no, it doesn’t hurt) before adjusting the bandanna covering his left eye. 

His right eye catches sight of another set of tables far away near the Rukongai Theater for the college. His eye narrows, blinking to make sure he’s seeing right for once. He softly pads both Nel and Grimmjow’s shoulders. “Not sorry to bother your bickering, but Grimmjow- Check it.” Nnoitra nods sideways, leading the duo out of the table and sneakily walk towards the tables by the theater. Their steps quiet and steady, making way towards a large tree near by, yet behind the ginger who’s stationed at one of the tables. While Nel and Nnoitra make themselves comfortable on the grass, sitting together, Grimmjow hides behind the tree with his arms crossed. Shifting weight to the side, blue eyes narrow at the sight of Kurosaki...

Paint. The sky transforms into sundown, with orange mixing with blue. Some purple and pinks in the sky as well. The golden hour transforming within the afternoon. From where Grimmjow is, he can see the canvas propped up by some type of table easel, seeing a tray and tubes of paint beside it. The Kurosaki kid is sitting, his hand and wrist skillfully brushing colorful strokes onto the canvas. 

There’s those same mixes of orange and blue, hints of violet highlighting clouds. Even his focus is extraordinary, sensing his energy in complete zen to this task; this art. Shit, what was the era of art that reminds him of this... Grimmjow bites his lower lip. His ears pick up faint conversation between Nel and Nnoitra, yet it all becomes part of the wind that whisks it away, leaving his focus on the ginger and his fantastic painting... The painting and realistic sunset almost match each other. However, the painting holds an essence that Mother Nature doesn’t have whenever she guides the sun rise and sun down. Like improvisation, it holds a different marker and energy, different to every mover. Yes! This must be Kurosaki’s style... What exact style is he going for? He’s an art major... Does he want to be a gallery artist? Why’s he in a dance class then? It’s not part of his plan, clearly-

With a start Grimmjow whips around, seeing concerning light brown eyes and green hair. He scowls at the woman. “What, Nel...?!” He hisses over in a whisper. 

“First of all, no, never hiss at me like some vampire. Second of all, bus is almost at the stop. We gotta go, unless you want to stay.” Nel produces her classic knowing smile, something extremely soft yet extremely devious that it punctures Grimmjow’s flawless skin in the worst of places. Mythical, devil woman. He rolls his eyes as he grasps his two bags. 

“No, we’re leaving... Get the fuck up, Nnoi.” Grimmjow kicks Nnoitra’s leg, essentially startling the poor sleeping man. He recovers quickly to gather his shit and catch up to the duo.

Ichigo turns around to see nothing but the beautiful tree behind him. Huh. He heard something ruffle against the grass or leaves that have fallen to the ground... With a shrug Ichigo continues his painting as though there were no disturbances whatsoever-

“ICHIGO!” The copper haired woman wraps her arms around Ichigo, squeezing him in such a warm and tight embrace that Ichigo drops his brush onto the table, expelling sounds of a suffocating stuffed animal. 

“Ori- HIME-“ The strawberry boy squirms within her embrace, trying his damnedest to breathe. He feels room to escape, fantastic, taking the opportunity like a dog dashing to a thrown ball. He gasps for air, cinnamon eyes catching sight of Uryū patting Orihime’s shoulder. “Thanks, Uryū- and sorry, Orihime!” He raises his hands up slightly. “You caught me off guard-“

“OH NO! I’m sorry Ichigo, you’re painting-“

“Don’t worry...” Ichigo scratches the back of his head as Orihime carefully puts the paint brush on the tray. Splattered deep red messing with the colorful sunset painting. Ichigo scoots over, wrapping an arm around her and giving a squeeze. “It’s okay, seriously. It’s not even for class.” 

“Speaking of class,” Uryū interrupts as he adjusts his glasses, “How was dance? I heard Blue Panther is attending the one you’re in.”

“Blue Panth- What?!” Ichigo lets go of Orihime with that usual scowl and a hint of confusion in his eyes. Orihime nods in agreement with that sweet smile of hers. “That’s his nickname or something?”

“One of them. I’m surprised you don’t know, Kurosaki. Then again you’re not in the realm of dance.” The dark blue haired man looks away, gaining a stronger scowl in return from the ginger. 

“I will be.” Ichigo crosses his arms over his chest. “Bet I can beat him at his own game too.”

“You don’t know shit, Kurosaki. Do the research before you go off and do something drastic- Wait, that’s ALL you ever do.” Uryū remarks with some venom in his words. 

“Uryū, that’s enough!” Orihime stands up and grasps his arm with a tug to try and snap him out of the small bitter rivalry the two males have had since high school. 

“... He was being fresh with me earlier... He deserves it.” Ichigo recalls as he gathers his paints, securing them in a travel palette and carefully stores it away in his bag. “Here, walk with me to the art building.” Along with his backpack secured on his back, he carries the dry painting in his free arm with the portable easel. The trio travel to the art sector of the college, up to the second floor of the building and pays a visit to Professor Urahara, one of Ichigo’s mentors. As Ichigo stores his canvas on one of the shelves, his movements slows tremendously. Eyes looking at no where in particular, yet inwardly re-watching memories of earlier today. That warm up. Sensitizing the atmosphere around him, feeling that ever so soft brush of shoulder-to-shoulder, and those blue, predatory eyes... The ginger shakes his head, returning to reality in a moment under what seemed like a few minutes. Ichigo bids farewell to the eccentric art professor, leaving with the same two friends towards the bus stop down the hill.

“... Ichigo, you said he was being... ‘Fresh,’ with you?” Orihime questions over with concern glinting in her grey eyes. Even Uryū glances at Ichigo, interest peaking up, waiting for the ginger to answer the question of the day. Silence answers in return until they take stock at the bus stop for their ride home. 

Ichigo crosses his arms, cinnamon eyes hardening with resolve. “If he’s like that with me again, I’ll go back to the good ol’ days and kick his ass, how about that?” A smirk plays on his lips. He might actually enjoy a spar with the dancer. He can dance, but can he fight? Of course Orihime punishes Ichigo verbally with her high pitched voice and threatens to shove month old bread down his throat to choke on if he ever fights again. The memory of him losing a big fight a week before graduation still haunts her mind, seeing the many-

“Clearly, she disapproves. However,” Once again Uryū adjusts his glasses, “if you do plan on fighting him, I suggest somewhere not on campus. You know how campus police are.” 

Ichigo nods in silent agreement, glancing downward at the concrete below his feet. He softly kicks a lone pebble to the side to kill time. Once on the bus, Ichigo rests his head against the window, fatigue swallowing him like a tsunami, drowning him in water. Thank god his stop is near, or else he might just fall asleep and be woken up by some drunk stranger (which has become a dreaded nightmare to never relive).


	3. What A Day

"Ichi-nii~!"

No, no waking up just yet...

"Breakfast is ready!"

Ichigo curls up within his beautifully warm blanket on his beautifully warm, comfortable bed. The oasis within his room. His safety net to get away from Goat-Face (his obnoxious father, though there was that one time he somehow managed to drop from the ceiling and tackle his son...) and whatever other problems were out there. A white, wrapped canvas propped against his closet currently stares at him with impending doom: his mid-term, to create an artwork inspired by music or a dance piece. There's some steps to the prompt, though he knows what he has to do and it drives the ginger out of sleep, groaning against his pillow. What a morning.

"Ichi-!"

"I'm awake, Yuzu...!" The ginger rolls over, opening tired eyelids to see his door slightly open and his younger sister's head poking out. He smiles as best he can with a wave. Yuzu, one of his younger sisters, pouts in return. A loud BANG echoes from the shut door, jolting Ichigo from his slumber. He rolls off the bed with less grace than a potato falling from a counter and gets himself ready for the day. After a nice warm shower and wearing an outfit that's ready to have a full days work all over it (all black shoes, pants, and shirt, except for his maroon button down shirt), he greets his family at the table and dives in to eat Yuzu's delicious cooking. She definitely took after their mother. Even her light brown hair resembles their mother’s hair. Remembrance of scents: delicious hot cocoa, onigiri, hot soup, and dessert flood his mind.

"Where's Goat-Face?" Ichigo asks with a mouthful of rice. He gestures for the sauce.

"Clinic. Someone came by with a sprained ankle and bloody hand. He looked weird too." Karin passes the sauce without even looking.

"Karin, don't be so rude!" Yuzu shouts from the kitchen.

The opposite of Yuzu, having straight short black hair like the night sky, rolls eyes eyes. "You know it's true, Yuzu, especially since he's not part of town."

The light conversation blends into background noise as Ichigo focuses on the delicious breakfast, mixing together each part of the plate for a tasteful of goodness in each bite. The older brother stills. Cinnamon eyes widen, rice almost meeting lips. Blue?

"— He looked almost drunk too, or maybe he just couldn't sleep.”

"Wait, blue what?" Ichigo questions, leaning his face closer to the twins as they're sitting side by side now.

"Blue hair and eyes!" Yuzu exclaims. "Like those crystals at the farmer's markets for psychic stuff." She muses, continuing her eating.

Ichigo almost drops his small rice bowl, yet quickly recovers to softly set it down (god knows he's accidentally destroyed some nice china that Yuzu was fond of. NEVER get her angry ever again) and races towards the clinic. Shoving the sliding door open, cinnamon eyes meet crystal blue with Grimmjow seated on one of the beds with Goat-Face, or Isshin Kurosaki in his usual white doctor coat, inspecting the bandaged ankle. Grimmjow’s hand is also wrapped. His eyes scan Grimmjow: baggy navy blue hoodie and white shorts, sporting messy yet fashionable blue hair. The fuck? Did he roll out of bed? Karin may be right. Ichigo’s throat suddenly dries in what he could only suspect to be, what, anxiety? Caution? Fear? Good god, even he doesn’t know...

"Ah, my wonderful son! Perfect timing! Mr. Jaegerjaquez here is in one of your classes right?" Ichigo nods blankly. "Good! Help him to the bus and class today! I already contacted the school's nurse and doctor, so he will be looked at better once you two arrive." Wait, what...?

A smug smirk plays on Grimmjow's lips, making the ginger clench his hands into fists at his sides and harden his glare at him. Oh, how he'd love to punch that pretty boy's face off— “I'm so proud of you son! Making new friends already!" Usually Ichigo would kick or punch or do anything to physically remove his father's affections off of him, yet the desire to figure out a way to kick Grimmjow's ass is far superior. He just pat's Goat-Face's back once and shoves him away, giving a rough nod to the side for Grimmjow. "Bus is almost here." 

In less than five minutes orange and blue sit next to each other on the bus bench. Grimmjow leans against the bus stop wall, while Ichigo crosses his legs, tapping his foot against the air, arms crossed. Any day now... 

"You must be wonderin'—“

"Yea, how the fuck did you get across town with a sprained ankle and busted hand just to go to my dad's clinic?" Ichigo cuts him off abruptly.

"Wow, you're so concerned. Thanks, Kurosaki, I'm so relieved." Damn his sarcasm.

"... Fine. How did you sprain your ankle?"

"Party."

"It's the first week of classes."

"Best time to party." God, Ichigo would do anything to punch that damned smirk off of his face...

Ichigo shakes his head, going through his bag to get his change. Grimmjow does the same, and the ginger begrudgingly helps Grimmjow onto the bus, taking up two seats together. The bus ride gratefully uneventful, Ichigo once against helps Grimmjow up the hill towards campus and into student services. They both stop by the elevator. Ichigo glances up and behind him at the clock on the wall: 10:52 am. "Think you can make to the health center? I got class." 

Grimmjow nods over, blue eyes not even sparing a glance towards the ginger until he's just about to leave the building. He takes that chance: a head of orange one second, disappearing as Ichigo turns a corner. Gone. A heavy sigh releases from his chest through his lips. Grimmjow enters the elevator and into the health center in no time despite the agonizing pain. It’s not much. He’s used to the similar aches and pains of injuries over the years. He doesn't pay much attention to the doctor, knowing the usual: heal in a couple of weeks, bruising will take just as long or sooner, yet this bullshit is always a bitch to deal with. He can't dance for a while now and the good stuff is usually introduced at this time too. What luck.

Nnoitra pokes his head out of the open doorway, with those damned piano teeth grinning and freaky hands on the doorframe. “There ya are!" 

Grimmjow jumps, clenching his jaw. "'The fuck you doin' here?!" 

"Same as you. You weren't the only one in a fight." Nnoitra shows his other hand, bandaged up with some small soaking red spots where his knuckles are. Grimmjow sighs with a low growl, attempting to get up and almost tripping in the process. If it wasn't for Nnoitra's fast reflexes, he would've stayed in the room longer. 

The boys make their way out of student services and attend a regular GE class together. Grimmjow relaxes his chin on his fist, elbow on the desk. Eyelids halfway closed, narrowed blue eyes stare passively at the board filled with equations and numbers. Time passes quickly, with the dancer soon finding himself eating late afternoon lunch with Nnoitra and Nel on the grass. Grimmjow lies down, hands intertwined behind his head, his sprained ankle resting on the duffle bag. Crystal blue eyes watch golden dusted clouds slowly migrate through the sky. Fuck, just like that painting... Kurosaki is a good artist. Of course he will never admit that out loud. It will ruin his image. He works alone. End of story. He can continue working on Pantera with his designated designers. He doesn't need another artist... Though murals or something of the like might be nice for the set. Maybe even on the floor-

"GRIMMY!"

Grimmjow kicks Nnoitra with his good foot, resulting in Nnoitra clenching his stomach with his hand as he lies on his side. Grimmjow smirks in victory as he hears the painful groans from his friend. Easy target. Annoying him as ever. The smirk disappears in an instant with widen blue eyes as Nel leans over, ash brown eyes curiously looking down at Grimmjow's scowling face.

"You've been spacing out even since the party last night... You're not drunk anymore, though..." She pouts lightly, fingertip to her chin as she inspects the blue-haired man's face.

"Maybe I'm still hungover. No need to overthink." Absolute lie. The suggestion isn't enough to push Nel away, who leans down even closer to his face. Grimmjow closes those pretty eyes tightly. Tap tap tap. His face scrunches. Tap tap TAP. Tap tap— Pale hand grasps a thin wrist. "STOP messing with my face, Nel!"

"You're not talking to me! C'mon, this is serious."

"Yea, right." He shoves her hand away. "I'm fine. End of discussion."

Nel rolls her eyes, shifting to lie down on the grass. The trio stays in their relaxed positions. Nel, Grimmjow, and Nnoitra: roommates since high school graduation. They've hustled their way through classes upon endless classes. In their third year, they're now hustling through their careers. Nel with her mixed-media projects, Grimmjow creating dance pieces, Nnoitra leaning towards sports, still undecided major. Grimmjow overhears light exchange of words between the other two, becoming muddy and incoherent. What is coherent is the sight of the changing sky. His mind returns to that painting, or process of painting... The orange haired kid and his crazy talent. Quietly snorting, he grins to himself. He'll see what else the kid has in store. 

"Hello Itsygo— oh, sorry, Ichigo!" Nel sits up, chuckling to herself as her lisp slipped out of nowhere. Itsygo? ICHIGO. Grimmjow abruptly sits up, seeing the orange haired man with two others beside him: a copper haired woman who's almost as curvy as his roommate wearing a thin sweater, jeans and keds, and a pretentious four-eyed asshole. Yes, he can tell just by his looks. Too obvious. Grimmjow sports his usual feline smirk, shifting to sit up more properly on the grass. 

"Well, shit, we have a strawberry to deal with. Fun class yesterday?" He asks with much amusement, especially from the intense scowl and eye roll he receives from Kurosaki.

“Shut up, Jaegerjaquez."

“Ouch, last name basis..." Grimmjow rubs his chest above his heart. "Mortally wounded, Ichi."

"One: Don't call me Ichi, and two: you called me Kurosaki earlier, so last name basis it is." Ichigo continues his trademark scowl, which only makes the dancer grin even more. Silence descends on the six, before Nelliel grabs Ichigo's hand and brings him down to sit with them. The invitation extends to Ichigo's friends, who take space by Ichigo. However, the two girls start exchanging rapid fire words, evening out each other's wicked high energy. Grimmjow yawns into his hands. Fuck. He still has one more class. Maybe he could skip observing ballet all together... The feeling of a warm hand softly grasping his shoulder makes Grimmjow open his eyes (they were closed?) and turns around. "What?"

"My friends and I have to take the bus soon and my dad still expects me to help you out." Ichigo lets go of Grimmjow's shoulder. Unbeknownst to his conscious, he rubs said shoulder that still radiates a warmth unique to the ginger.

“You really gonna follow what he says?" Grimmjow questions with an arch of his brow.

“I didn't help you to the health center all the way, if that answers that. Look, wanna go with us or not?" The invitation is enticing... Ideas of messing with the berry consume his mind. Mess with his hair, joke at his friends to make the strawberry boy scowl and get all wild up again. His decision is taken away from him as Nel beams with excitement, smiling ear to ear. "I can skip class! Come on, Grimmy, let's go!" 

Grimmjow overhears a mutter from this Uryū guy ("Grimmy?") as he's lifted up from the ground, securing his two bags that Nnoitra hands over. He huffs, following his friends and not the other trio who's walking ahead. That orange is loud. Too loud. Too loud for his liking and too loud for his painful recovery. He has to see that carrot top every week. Annoyingly so. Nope. He won't work with this strawberry boy. So what if he's a good artist? Grimmjow can find someone else to help with the set or other ideas he has. 

As Grimmjow chats up with his two friends, Ichigo glances back to see he's taken care of. His lips thin together, shaking his head to himself. How long does he have to 'look after' him for? He remembers the text he got from Goat-Face, explaining that helping new friends will help with bonding. Ichigo internally groans and scratches the back of his head. He's only doing this out of politeness. Courtesy and nothing else. Not like he wants to see the 'Blue Panther' dance. Uryū almost showed him a video of a piece Grimmjow made for the student dance performance last year, but he instantly declined. Like hell Grimmjow of all people will inspire him to create art. 

They all take the bus together. An eventful ride to say the least. Ichigo's eyes widen to see Uryū and Nnoitra having a chat behind him. Of all things they talk with heated passion of who has the best uniform in all of sports. Thoroughly spooked, Ichigo faces forward and gets comfortable. Tries to, since a certain blue-haired dancer is right next to him. Their knees almost brush as the bus drives through a small hole in the ground, shaking the bus a bit. The uneasy ride home due to traffic leaves the ginger in a state of anxiety he hasn't felt since graduation. He'd rather throw away this excitement for even more dread, but whatever it is, it needs to stop now before it makes his heart beat flip a bunch of times. Yes, Grimmjow's attractive. It's obvious. He’s body bigger than Ichigo’s, broader shoulders, angular face with crystal cutting jaw lines. Muscles that are sculpted from years, it seems, of movement and dance and like much more. Ichigo won't go down that road again though. Far too painful the last time. 

Cinnamon eyes capture the moving glowing words on the roof of the bus, indicating the next stop. He pulls the yellow lever, grasping his backpack between his feet. "See you tomorrow, Jaegerjaquez." Ichigo glances to see Grimmjow arch a brow for a moment, before he ultimately nods over, relaxing more into his seat. Weird. The ginger motions for his friends to follow. He unfortunately overhears the two women make some plans to visit their home or something this weekend. No thank you very much. Orihime, however, insists that the two tag along for the meet up as they walk through their sector of town. Dammit. He can't say no to that smile of hers. Even Uryū can't deny Orihime, who knows how to wrap them around her finger. She offers an idea to create a set of pastries and sweets for them: a potluck for the hang out. Least that sounds better than just showing up. 

Ichigo waves goodbye to his friends, entering his home in time dodging the flying tackle from Goat-Face. He hears something of a croaked 'Good job, my son...!' behind him as he takes off his shoes and gets comfortable for the evening. A soft vibration tickles his hip. Fishing into his pants pocket, he takes out his smart phone to see a text from an unknown number. However, all the smiley emojis indicate different. Striding up the stairs to his room, he inputs the number in his contacts as 'Nel' with a green four leaf clover and horse emoji. 

\- hey ichigo!! this is nel :) :) orihime gave me ur number, wanna hang out w us?

\- Sure! I already told Hime that Uryū and I will come along. We will bring pastries too.

\- aaaaaaaaahhhh wonderful!! i think grimmy would like that a lot

Ichigo's thumbs freeze, breath hitching for a moment. Shaking his head and whatever weird worries arriving, he continues typing.

\- Cool. See you saturday?

\- sure thing!

Nel beams around the now clean living room (forgetting the three other messy bedrooms to deal with), not a care in the world even if Grimmjow is visibly rubbing his forehead from the sheer, cheerful energy of Nelliel. She can be such a child sometimes. It's maddening. "Nel, cut it out!"

"Shut it, Grimmjow. You're just sore because we ruined your 'alone time.'" She air quotes 'alone time,' making the blue-haired dancer roll his eyes. Yes. Alone time. Usually pertaining to improvising around the house, sleep, or just having fun. To exorcise all the bullshit that’s in his system from the previous days before. "Hanging out might cure all the stress."

"Like I want to hang out with them. Stop bullshittin' me, Nel, I know your 'bulletproof' plan." Grimmjow shuts down the rapid fire explanation from Nel as he lies on the couch, injured ankle resting against the couch arm wrapped with an ice pack. He bats away the affectionate attempts from the devil woman, scrunching his face as he recounts his past. 

Why did he agree to move in with these two? Right, they were better than all the other piss poor excuses of 'friends' he had back then. Espada, they were all called. Ten of them. Gang of misfits and delinquents, sizing others up to get some cash or move up the ranks. Of course it was all just a bubble within school. Outside, everyone was fucking cowards against the real threats out there. Despite all the rep he gets for being stupid at times, which he hates being called, he smartly chose Nel and Nnoitra, former Espada 3 and 5 respectively, to move in with to get away from the bullshit and pursue what he really wanted to accomplish: art. Fuck the haters and bullies. It's all he kept his eyes on since graduation. Ascend to the stars. Run around, roaming free.

His attention returns to the present, finally sighing in defeat as he nods in agreement at Nel's plan. Hang out with Kurosaki and his other friends. To hell with it! See if Kurosaki even wants to be around him. Grimmjow will push Nel's buttons that day just to mess with her and the ginger, maybe just fuck up her own plan. Let's see if the Kurosaki kid is really worth his time and artistic effort. Let's see if he's up to play against Pantera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof I honestly don't know why this old end notes is still here :/ in any case i'm starting a new job, but hopefully updates will still be weekly! apologies in advanced if I miss any scheduled updates.


	4. Improv

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing improvisation is... a process lol
> 
> i have to improv, track said improv, write about it, and then revise.
> 
> it's not the best (least in my eyes), so I'm determined to write dance improv better as the chapters continue on.
> 
> thank you for all the kudos, comments, and interest! it really means a lot!

The morning routine continues with Ichigo and crew meeting Grimmjow and company on the bus to classes. Nel and Orihime almost have a cheerful riot on the bus, making definite plans this weekend for their small get together. All the men groan in unison knowing full well their lives are in the hands of two optimistic, child-like women; though never to mess with. Ichigo and Grimmjow soon enough are left alone in the studio for their dance class, having a few minutes to spare and wait for classmates. Ichigo doesn't notice the pair of crystal blue eyes that watch him sketch in his moleskine sketchbook: figure drawing. Using a black Blackwing pencil, which is one of his favorites, he quickly sketches Yumichika and his improvisation in the studio as a warm up. Cinnamon eyes focus from subject to paper, drawing hand working almost effortlessly, yet having years upon years of practice behind it. 

"Woah..." 

Shit, that slips without any hesitation. 

Ichigo glances over to the side after hearing the curious cat, and he shrugs casually in return. "It's just a warm up. Messy shit."

"Gee, don't hold yourself short, kid."

"I'm not a kid."

"To me you are. Too bad ya ain't sketching me." Those words almost choke the ginger, yet he schools his reaction pretty well resulting in just a quiet swallow with a scowl. Ichigo abruptly stops his work in record time as Yoruichi enters the studio and calls upon all dancers (except Grimmjow) to lie down anywhere in the space. Quickly settling the sketchbook beside his bag, Ichigo just scoots a few feet away of Grimmjow to lie down, closing his eyes. Grimmjow's focus lands on the Kurosaki kid, intently watching his chest rise and fall. Since his ankle is still recovering, he will gladly observe the class; especially the ginger. Watching a seed being fed water and grow always interested the dancer, whether it was with friends trying something new or other new dancers in classes, it's a wonder he never thought about being a teacher. Though that shit's a hassle anyway. 

"As you're lying down on the floor, turn your attention to the top of your head." Grimmjow overhears Yoruichi start saying, who's sitting by the mirrors for now, watching her students lie on the floor on their backs. "As you're scanning your attention from the top of your head down your body, such as your neck, shoulders... arms... Notice any tension in your body. Whether if it's from your neck, arms, back... wherever it may be, notice it, continue breathing. Continue your attention down your spine, pelvis... legs... to your feet and toes. You may do this again but in the opposite direction. As you do, notice which parts of your body is touching the floor. The crevasses and roundness of your arms, your back; everywhere. Now, notice which parts of your body are NOT touching the floor. What's the difference? What sensations rise when noticing these aspects of yourself in this very moment?"

He can see it. Grimmjow's eyes spot the rawest transformation that Ichigo rides through. It almost takes the dancer's breath away, observing how Ichigo's body relax visibly into the floor, his breath consistent and deep. Everything about his body completely changing through Yoruichi's vocal guidance. Is he truly this perceptive? 

"Let the floor rise up to support your body. Let gravity gently push you downward, grounding you to this moment." 

Grimmjow looks away from the fascinating work in front of him to Yoruichi, who quietly travels over to Grimmjow, crouching down to meet his eye-line.

"Work with Ichigo today. You might help him understand the basics." For one, Grimmjow knows to never refuse Yoruichi Shihoin, and two, he doesn't hesitate to agree, which leaves him blinking to himself as Yoruichi returns to the middle of the studio. Did he just agree to help Ichigo? Shit. That wasn’t the plan...

Yet, why?

Grimmjow straightens his sitting posture as the rest of the class is brought back to the present, everyone sitting up in a circle center of the studio. Yoruichi pairs each student with someone, and Ichigo is left awkwardly smiling at Nel who's partnered with Candice, though she smiles in return for the ginger. Grimmjow and Ichigo exchange a glance before it's confirmed by Yoruichi for him to talk with Grimmjow about Improvisation.

He watches the ginger scoot closer to him, and they nod to each other before Grimmjow looks into Ichigo's eyes in all seriousness. 

"Scoot away a bit."

"... I was just away."

"I know. Get your own space. Preferably nearby for now."

The dancer snorts at the ginger's eye roll, though Ichigo reluctantly obliges and regains some of the studio space for himself. Grimmjow gestures with his hand as an offer to stand which Ichigo takes. His blue eyes scan the ginger that makes the other awkwardly look away, fidgeting in place as nervousness seeps into his limbs. "Alright," Grimmjow starts as he adjusts his sitting position on the ground to lean more into the wall, his eyes never leaving the sight of Ichigo, "Walk."

"Seriously?" 

Grimmjow retrains another eye roll, holding back a groan in the process. "Just do it, no one will mind. Everyone is doing their own thing anyway. This is improv. Do whatever you feel like doing. Move however you want. Literally, no one gives a fuck." 

The words have an absolute tone that Ichigo widens his eyes a tad. It's a true statement from Grimmjow's lips, least that's what it feels like to him... With a soft nod, he turns and walks a slow pace around the studio. Most of the students are already moving like crazy, changing their direction in movement with a swing of an arm, curvature of the spine, creating pathways onto the floor. Whatever they wish and feel. The energy buzzes a universal vibration despite any possible disruptions from it. Others, such a Nel, is within her own kinesphere. Ichigo observes as he slowly passes by her in his walk, dark autumn eyes watching Nel step into a circular pattern, gesturing with her arms closest to her. Her ask brown eyes follows the movement of her arms and hands as they slowly guide her through her personal bubble, almost as if she’s redirecting air. 

The energy ignites Ichigo's speed, walking faster around the space. Only a bit. Yet this bit sways his arms just a tad higher. Ichigo follows along this trajectory as he turns, softly transferring himself to stride backwards. Ichigo looks behind himself left and right to make sure he doesn't bump into anyone.

"Soften your knees, Ichigo." 

Ichigo heeds the command from Grimmjow as he softly bends his knees a bit, the walk backwards instantly grounding the movement. His pathway curves around passing dancers before he slows into a space near the back corner. Letting gravity work her magic, Ichigo lowers onto his hands and knees to the floor as he slows his walk before he softly lies on his side. Guiding with the turn of his head to the side, the young man lies on his back with ease as his knees are still bent upward. Ichigo settles his hands on his stomach, breathing in deeply as air rejuvenates his body, spreading comfort to his limbs. Thoughts almost seem foggy... Words within his mind venturing to the outskirts of his attention. 

The ginger lifts his arm, observing how he twists his wrist and affects his arm. How moving his arm in different directions invites other parts of his body to follow through. Soon enough, he rolls onto his side softly a couple of times before he stops, facing the side of the studio where Grimmjow is stationed. Warm brown eyes connect with crystal blue. No matter if they blink their connection stays intact. The smallest of smiles forms on the gingers lips from a warmth in his chest, an aching which reminds of the days out in autumn; leaves falling and the soft heat of the golden hour touches his skin. Grimmjow mimics the same smile from a coolness that no soft breeze on a sunny day could ever beat out. It spreads around the blunet in a way like a thin blanket wrapped around his being. 

Grimmjow continues his observation of the ginger who keeps exploring simple movement, yet he knows Ichigo is already picking up some tricks by watching others. He's catching on quickly. Even Yoruichi, who's arms are crossed over his chest as she looks after the class, shoots a grin of pride at Grimmjow with a nod. Good. Ichigo is getting on her good side. There's an itch that creeps throughout his body, from skin level down to his bones. His body aching to join in the many dances occurring. Yet the light pain from his healing ankle dictates otherwise, leaving the poor dancer to only be an audience member. Tragic...

In no time every is gathered around in the center of the studio in a circle to recount any discoveries made from improvising this session. Nel speaks of her experience with making a conscious choice to move against the majority, as mostly everyone had higher energy output than herself. Yet despite the choice she still felt one with the group. Yumichika admits to his craving to try some tricks in movement he's been working on. Grimmjow chimes in on how observing is just as good as moving, that the eyes can learn from other's movement and pocket ideas to explore at a later time. He glances at Ichigo who raises a hesitant hand in the air. 

"Um... I never really danced like this before. Even at parties," Ichigo chuckles along with some others, "But this definitely felt... different?" He asks himself, rubbing his hands together. "Definitely felt more aware of everyone. A soft focus, if I remember correctly, from an acting class I was in once... Having a soft focus on everything helps with awareness." Ichigo scratches the back of his head, sparing a glance over to Grimmjow. "It was nice to just... let go too." He affirms his statement with a nod. "I even felt, like, my thoughts sorta moving about. It was changing a bunch, my thought process, throughout the whole thing."

"Did anything else occur during your dance?" 

Those eyes. His eyes. Of course he won't say that out loud. Too personal... yet he knows. Ichigo shrugs off the question casually, declining any further discoveries. It was nice to focus on Grimmjow's eyes for that minute, or what felt like a minute. As though those blue eyes were the ground itself, Ichigo felt gravity lower him to settle down. Possibly the first time in a long time. 

"Alright!" Yoruichi claps her hands. "Let's continue onward! We have another 30 minutes or so, let's use this wisely."

The rest of the class continues with easy trust exercises, such as usual trust falls in any theatre and dance class, sharing weight side by side, mechanics of rolling on the floor, and other basics that Ichigo never really knew about. He will never admit it out loud, but Uryu was right. This is not his realm, yet here he is, exploring in it. It brings the ginger back into the past, remembering his first times exploring his realm of fine art; tangible exercises and muscle memory, touching paint and eyes captivated by beautiful paintings from masters long ago. Class ends in a flash as everyone packs for the rest of the day. Ichigo glances to the side seeing Nel help Grimmjow to his feet. Just as he's about to look away, their eyes meet in an instant. Locking eyes for what feels like an eternity, Ichigo nods over before he walks out of the studio. In all honesty, he'd rather look into those eyes while dancing again... However, blue eyes are still peeled to his back, suddenly on the move without Nel's help and follows the ginger out. Fuck the pain.

"Leaving so soon, Berry?" He asks with an amusing grin on his lips. Watching the ginger halt in the middle of the hallway makes it even better for teasing. "Aw, c'mon, thought we were having fun."

"Thanks for teaching me back there... Gotta go." 

Grimmjow blinks, that cocky grin of his turning downward into a frown as Ichigo leaves the building, out of sight. He scowls with huff, returning into the studio to see Nel in her usual pouty stance: pouty face, hand on hip, with their bags on her back. "Great, you scared him off!"

"I didn't do shit and you know it." Grimmjow bites back.

"Don't scare him til next year, please, we have our lovely get-together this weekend and it won't be ruined by your sour face."

Ironically, Grimmjow uses said pouty sour face as they make way through the building and out in the open. He snaps back to reality by the blazing sun and a force smacking his shoulder, grunting at the impact. He rubs the area with a scowl. "You can be less violent."

"Says the guy who's always violent."

"Go to hell."

"We're already there." Nel flashes a smile at Grimmjow, who's scowl deepens in disgust. Silence continues between the two as they make their way home, instantly going to their respective comfort zones of the apartment: Nel within her bedroom booming lo-fi music while Grimmjow uses a black roller on the living room floor to roll any soreness out of his body. Nnoitra is out for tonight, though a note on the fridge catches their attention when they make dinner: 'Berry has a show during midterms this semester. Crash it? ;)'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates will be more than weekly as my new job has more hours and SDCC (san diego comic con) is arriving soon, which I will attend.
> 
> I wish I was attending anime expo right now but alas, not there... 
> 
> so y'all know: HYPLAND x BLEACH collab on the HYPLAND site if you all want bleach merch. pretty dope.


	5. Debate #1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies if the chapter is a bit shorter, however I'm updating a day earlier! enjoy!

"Is the lil' cakes ready?!"

"Yep."

"Tiny Tiramisu?!"

"Yes..."

"Sandwiches?!"

"Orihime, we have EVERYTHING you and Uryu made." Ichigo huffs a laugh while packing the delicious items into a couple of bags. Mainly full of sweets, but at least the other is filled with healthy food that Uryu put together. The crew checks their time and location once more before they hit the road. 

Making their way down the streets of Seireitei, they cross an intersection of the freeway and main road, entering the city by Seireitei, Hueco Mundo. The large park next to the shared river between the two towns is their destination, indicated by Orihime's squealing and jumping, dashing towards the park. The boys sigh in unison, ungracefully catching up to the woman. Grey clouds move to cover the heat of the sun, changing the environment in filtering grey over all that's beneath the sky. 

Ichigo slows his pace as he catches sight of a couple of large towels and three beings sprawling on top: the green haired twin of Orihime, the black haired extremely tall athlete, and... Ichigo groans internally. He can be respectful when need be, say, in class. Like this past week. Respectful. Yet seeing the blue haired egotistical 'Blue Panther' taking up most of the space just sets fumes off within the ginger's head. He drops the two bags right by Grimmjow's sleeping figure, who jumps awake on cue. Ichigo ignores the growl in return, settling to sit between Grimmjow and Orihime, who's taken out the sandwiches to give to everyone while simultaneously chatting with Nel about the wonders of photosynthesis and flowers. What a weird match.

As the clouds continue their journey above in the sky, so does the make-shift picnic between two groups of friends. Nel and Orihime lead the conversations with intriguing questions that only Orihime's team can answer, while Grimmjow and Nnoitra stare wide eyed at the duo, discarding their growling stomachs. 

The big group catch up with their eating, and soon enough, they divide into smaller groups: Nel and Orihime becoming sisters in spirit, Nnoitra chatting up Uryu about MMA, leaving two stubborn artists on the sideline. They escaped early on, now sitting together with some distance between them by the river. The faint sunlight that filters between the clouds sparkle magical reflections off of the river, shines that only Mother Nature can create. Grimmjow lazily sits upright, with a knee up and his elbow resting on it, using his free hand to support himself on the side. Ichigo sits by him, hands fidgeting together. They've escaped the terror of squealing girls, yet here they are: silence that tickles the back of their neck, words trapped on their tongues. Both scowl at the same time.

It's these type of silences that make Grimmjow grit his teeth, nervously scratching the back of his head. Nervousness is a common companion for him. Awkwardness, however, is something he despises far more than even fear. With a silent sigh, Grimmjow glances at the ginger. "Thought you were going to paint or some shit during this whole thing."

"Orihime would force feed me old pastries if I did. Nel would probably do something too."

Grimmjow snorts. "Yea, she's a tough cookie."

"Guess that's why they're long lost sisters?"

"You could say that. Devil's spawn." 

Grimmjow lifts a brow as he peers over, seeing Ichigo laughing more than he's even seen this past week. Even when they had their unexpected time together on campus, Ichigo didn't laugh as much as he did just now. Weird. 

"Why dance?"

The blue haired dancer's thoughts rear back to present time, blinking at the question. Then it settles. Right, the age old question: why pursue the arts? Dance? Grimmjow shifts on the grass, relaxing his way onto lying down, hands clasped behind his head. One of his feet tap in a random rhythm, lips thinly pressed together. He knows he has to choose his words carefully, seeing as the Berry is knocking his own Heaven's Gate. "Escapism," just as Ichigo nods at his reply, Grimmjow continues, "Rebirth."

Now Ichigo is the one to raise a brow, his cinnamon eyes cast downward to see Grimmjow's closed eyes and slightly scrunched up face. No others words escapes Grimmjow's lips, so Ichigo takes in the two words. Escapism is a usual yet valid answer. Rebirth is very... specific. It reminds him of rituals, community coming together after a crisis; spiritual awakenings or witchcraft. A mother. New life. Rebirth brings an anxious chaos into his mind. The gears in his head. The gears abruptly stop, something getting caught in the rotation. It's not what he wants. It's not what he's going for. Fuck Uryu. He's right again...

"You?" Grimmjow asks casually.

It's Ichigo's turn to now scratch the back of his head. He then scratches the hair behind his ear, a certain movement he must of gotten from Goat-Face. He scrunches his face in thought, before his signature scowl takes over. Shit. How can he put his love for art into words? He only did it for college essays and the usual introductions. Somber brown eyes look onward to the sparkling river. Visions of Monet and Van Gogh, Devotional artwork, radiating Greek sculptures appear throughout his inner thoughts. "Perfection," Ichigo shrugs over, "and realism."

"Shit." That low chuckle from Grimmjow soon follows.

The simple word sparks red into Ichigo's eyes, glaring down at the Blue Panther. "What?" 

"Nothin'. It's your style."

"... Yea." Ichigo replies with a tension that builds in his voice. "My style. I want perfection."

"Berry, that's NEVER going to happen." Grimmjow's lips curl into a grin that makes Ichigo's blood boil past the point of no return. 

"You know that because, what, you're an egotistical 'hot shit' dance major?" Ichigo questions, instantly regretting a moment too late. Brown eyes wide in sudden fear as dangerously narrowed blue eyes meet his. Grimmjow now sits upright, facing him directly in an almost predatory sense. Shit. He liked the distant sitting situation better. The silence doesn't help by any means. It only makes the ginger swallow whatever anxiety has almost clogged his throat. The air between the two thicken, half rage from one end and half nervousness from the other. Ichigo clenches a fist at his side, shifting his posture ever so slightly in case, y'know, he almost gets attacked.

"Careful what you say, kid."

"I'm not a kid!"

"You are, since you're narrow minded as fuck! You're an artist for fucks sakes!" Grimmjow flails his hands around in a swift movement. However, what catches Ichigo off his guard is the somber shake of Grimmjow's head. "Knew you painting back there wasn't up my alley."

"You watched me paint?!" Ichigo's voice rises up an octave that he wish didn't occur. 

Grimmjow crosses his arms with a huff. "Of course you didn't notice. You're spacial awareness is shit."

"Fuck you."

The wink Ichigo receives in return takes all the air out of his lungs. Red is all the ginger sees. Not in a good way either. He doesn't register his body move, shoving the dancer to the ground before he stands, striding away from the blue haired dancer who's laughing his ass off from afar. Figures. 

In a few moments, Ichigo sits between Orihime and Nel, who pause their conversation to take in the energy of the ginger. Only a moment. The next, they continue on, hoping their shared positivity transfers into the ginger. The deep scowl on his face says otherwise, and that's saying a lot for someone who developed a usual scowl. Ichigo can't help but scratch his head, fidgeting his hands, glancing behind him-

His features soften, melting slowly under the afternoon sun. Grimmjow still looking out at the river. His eyes catch the visual relationships within his view: the composition of Grimmjow more left than center, the highlight of the river, gorgeous color palette of nature that works beautifully with the dancer's bright blue hair. His hands twitch to grab his phone. Should he? Ichigo barely registers the swift CLICK of thumb to phone camera button, pocketing the device. The rapid beating of his bleeding heart continues despite the action never noticed. He doesn't need to worry, the two girls won't tell on him. For now. 

Ichigo's eyes don't even catch the shared grins on their smug faces. What a day. Maybe Nel will forgive Grimmjow a bit for being an ass. Maybe Orihime will encourage Ichigo to open up about his art. Tag team for the win! 

After another hour of eating delicious dessert, the group packs up and say their farewells, unlike the two artists who scowl disgustingly at each other and not even say a word. Now THAT ended on a sour note. Grimmjow ignores the vicious pokes to his side from Nel, yet his eyes twitch a few from the annoyance. As Grimmjow unlocks their door and opens wide to welcome in their humble abode, Nel sets off like a rocket. "I've forgiven you already- but FUCKING CHRIST GRIMM you need to stop being a BITCH." Nel sets the leftovers and bags on the kitchen counter, forgetting Nnoitra who escapes to his bedroom. He definitely doesn't want to get caught up in another argument. 

"He's a dumbass! 'Perfection and realism,' what fucking load of bullshit. It's boring and high standard." Grimmjow grumbles over, flopping on the couch on his back. "His hair is loud too."

"So's yours, idiot!" Nnoitra yells in return from his bedroom

"SHUT UP! And get OFF-" Grimmjow struggles to kick Nel off his legs, since she practically sits on them to regain her spot on the couch.

"Then don't take up the whole couch." Nonchalantly turning on the TV, Nel moves Grimmjow's legs to bend, taking her rightful throne. "Seriously, Grimm, you need to appreciate other people's perspectives."

"So does he!"

"Make the effort! You'll lose the opportunity if you keep this shit up."

Grimmjow scrunches his face in confusion, about to ask what this opportunity she's referring to before another body of slender tall height and lanky mass sits squeezes besides Grimm, occupying the middle of the couch. Fuck this couch. Too damn small for the three roommates. Grimmjow grumbles with a scowl, something that Nnoitra laughs at, commenting on how much of a 'grumpy cat' poor Grimm is. After much bitter arguing the trio watch UFC Free Fights, with Grimmjow's attention at the darkening sky through the window. 

Clouds have now taken over majority of the skies, revealing Mother Nature's dark intentions for the night. Gloom and doom. The growing atmosphere brings a shiver through the dancer, also itching at some old scars. Against his own will, he can't help to seek mental refuge through the memory of Kurosaki painting that beautiful sunset on campus. It WAS realistic enough. So realistic that the old scars don't ache as much, the shivers turn non-existent, and his pale skin craves that golden hour sunshine. Grimmjow rubs his forehead, pinching the bridge of his nose. Shit. Maybe Nel is right. Though he will never admit it out loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to be honest I just can't wait for SDCC. super super excited.


	6. Sad Oxygen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEWS: no update next week. 18th - 21st is San Diego Comic Con, i will most definitely be having fun.
> 
> this chapter took a long time to write and revise. more on the emotional/angst side as a lot of lessons from monologue work in past acting classes came to mind.
> 
> inspired by the audio/song sad oxygen (rook) - chicken on soundcloud. the song will come up later in the fic most likely.
> 
> thank you for over 200 hits and all the kudos and comments! comments are always appreciated and it means a lot that this story is reaching people :) we're nearing the first half of the fic, so stay tuned!

How has it been almost a month already? Jeez, time flies.

Those thoughts run on repeat, cycling on impending doom as Ichigo takes shelter outside the cafeteria: sandwich in hand, right hand revising notes, eyes glancing over to a textbook now and then. The whole table is occupied by the ginger. No room for anything else but GE's. Stupid midterms, honestly. The only assignment which brings even more dread to his aching pain is his art midterms. Though Professor Urahara gave each student individual assignments for their independent study, Ichigo was baffled at Urahara's proposition: a self-portrait. Simple, yes. Only one restriction: no realism. Simple? Fuck no...

The very thought lets him sigh, transforming into a groan. Growl? It racks the young man's nerves. He remembers the days of drawing whatever his imagination brought up. Imaginary friends, creatures from books, concept art within the realms of music... Sometimes the boy would draw all night, or so he thought, until he fell asleep with a crayon or pencil in his hand on his bed. So many vivid ideas that sprung from his childhood. All of it running down the drain after the age of nine- Not now. Ichigo shakes his head, continuing his lunch and notes. Math is a bitch though.

"Hopeful to pass, Kurosaki?" 

The ginger rolls his eyes, pausing his note-taking as he spares a glance to Uryu in his posh long coat, who takes a seat in front of his. The nerve of his friend to start cleaning his messy work... That's HIS messy work table. All the ginger does is scowl menacingly in return, though Uryu only shrugs. The nerve. "I am passing, Uryu. I have a B."

"Worse than high school."

"That's because calculus was made by Satan. All of it is pentagram shit." Ichigo waves over. "Done studying for Geography?"

"I don't see why everyone hates our professor," Uryu comments as he adjusts his glasses, "He's only strict."

"That's because you have straight A's, dumbass."

Uryu shrugs again softly, resting his chin on his hand, glancing towards the passing students heading to other classes. "Say, Kurosaki-"

" _What?_ " Led from his HB pencil breaks upon intense pressure.

"... Jaegerjaquez?" He asks with a nod towards the nearby student exodus.

Ichigo looks over in the direction, squinting slightly. After a moment of searching, he spots the usual sky blue hair along with earthy green and intense jet black. Brown eyes note the way Nel has always worn some sort of hippy sandals, Nnoitra wearing sports brands (Adidas fan, apparently), and the way Grimmjow walks. Confidence oozing with every step, standing tall despite any odds, broad shoulders and muscle from gaining dance skills. How Grimmjow's hair almost matches the blue, beautiful sky, or even more so. However, instances from that god awful picnic ruins the present. Ichigo snorts, finally tearing his gaze away from the dancer. "Yep. Blue Panther alright." Ichigo resumes his note-taking.

"Classes going well with him?"

"As best as it can be." Ichigo's eyes remain towards his revisions, missing Uryu's furrowed brows and pursing his lips. He doesn't need to see to feel some sort of disapproval from his frenemy.

"... Really?"

"... Really, Uryu. It's been fine to work with him in class." Ichigo's tone settles down, his own movements melting away tension. "At least he's professional."

"I've heard the same. His work is making progress this semester. One of my classmates is working costumes for him, Illfort Granz. His brother's a nutcase." 

"Szayel? Don't get me started." Ichigo scoffs as he takes another bite of his sandwich, jotting down a few notes. 

The pair settles into a comfortable silence, both now diving into their own studies as the beating sun shines down. As Ichigo stashes away his notebook in exchange for his sketchbook, Uryu takes out his laptop and headphones to plug in, starting on some video lectures. The young men take solace in their respective tasks, meditative sketching and focused typing. Ichigo keeps his head down, waving off Uryu's insisting nudges from the other side. The ginger scowls as another sharp nudge on his shoulder takes him out of his zone, snarling as he looks up. 

"Ichigo."

Now THAT'S a soft tone he rarely hears. His sharp brown eyes soften, a wave of concern bringing him back as Uryu turns his laptop to face Ichigo. 

The ginger leans forward, using the mouse as he scrolls down the local news site. He grits his teeth with a passion, signature scowl in full force from the recent new article: Seireitei Cemetery Vandalized Once Again. "Rumors are true, then?" Ichigo asks as he continues his skim through the article.

"Seems so." Uryu crosses his arms, leaning back into the chair. "That gang that beat the shit out of us before graduation may have reformed. They usually vandalize. Old practices never die, I suppose."

"I remember." Some sort of venom seeps through his words. Ichigo finally shifts the laptop to face Uryu. "... Let's go."

Ichigo quickly packs his items, not even waiting for his friend who's scrambling his stuff into his messenger bag. The ginger continues his beeline through campus despite his disheveled friend catching up. Ichigo checks on his phone as he nears the bus stop, not even breaking a sweat while Uryu sits on the bench, panting downward. 

"Orihime went home?" Ichigo asks as he sits next to his exhausted friend.

"Y-Yea, that's why I only showed up, dumbass."

"Hey, I didn't know!" Ichigo shoots back, crossing his arms after he pockets his phone. His scowl contradicts the growing burnt orange gradient of late afternoon, the light mixing with Ichigo's similar hue hair. 

As the pair take their seats on the bus, Ichigo occupies his favorite window seat, gazing out at the changing scenery next him. Roaring of different engines among cars, grinding of tires against pavement, chirping of birds flying above, kids screaming, laughing; overall, a normal late afternoon where work finishes off for the day. Announcing of a nearby street, Ichigo snatches the yellow wire with a pull, requesting a stop. "Sorry Uryu, I'll stop here. See ya tomorrow?" 

Uryu nods swiftly as the bus halts to a stop, Ichigo grabbing his bag and dashing off the bus with a wave to the familiar bus driver. Golden hour still relatively upon the city, a faint smile lifts on his lips as he crosses the street, heading down a small hill entering a small village area of the town. 

Hoisting his backpack on one shoulder with a firm grip, he pockets his other free hand, cinnamon eyes admiring the slow change of the sky. Warmth slowly lifts from the ginger's sun-kissed skin as a dark, rich blue cascades behind him up above. Briefly watching the sun set from afar, Ichigo continues his journey through the inviting cottages of Rukongai, despite recent activity. Ears itch the young man, making the ginger furrow his brows. A voice reaches out, catching his attention with a turn on the heel. Opposite to his usual scowl, his own warm smile widens even more, waving back at an elderly lady before he crosses the street and enters the lovely little flower shop. 

"Hi, Yuuki-san." Ichigo bows slightly, reaching down for a warm hug as she's shorter than the young male. The petite, elderly woman smiles fondly after she releases the boy (in her eyes, she'll always be the small boy Masaki walked to school and back home). 

"Hello, Ichigo... Need some flowers?" Yuuki adjusts her soft ponytail and makes her way down the shop, passing by rows of beautiful flowers on both sides of the small shop. All colors of the rainbow displayed from the beautiful petals, some green plants hanging from the ceilings and veins spreading from above and down below. Ichigo strides a few steps before stopping, eyes widening as realization flows around and through the ginger, triggering a shiver running down his spine. Ichigo blinks, different kinds of petals and colors invading his vision. "A variety just for you, free of charge."

Ichigo gestures with both hands frantically. "Wait, Yuuki-san, please I'll pay whatever-"

"Nonsense!" Yuuki pushes the bouquet into Ichigo's chest, sending the ginger a few steps backward. "This is for her, after all. I'll give whatever I have of my heart and passion to her whenever possible. Please, let her have them." Yuuki nods as she adjusts her glasses. Ichigo grasps the flowers, nodding a thanks in return. Ichigo turns on his heel, striding out of the shop.

"Ichigo?"

The ginger turns around with wide eyes. 

Comfortable silence fills the distance between the two whom shared many memories since his childhood. Yuuki has seen this boy with radiant orange hair grow from his early days of a tear jerking, passionate child to a grown protector of his friends and family. "Tell her everything. Something weighs heavy on your shoulders." She lowers her glasses slightly, eyeing the young man. 

The ease of the current flows through the two. It's the push the young man needs. A soft smile is all Ichigo gives back in return with a nod, gesturing with the bouquet before he strides out of the flower shop, returning en route. Orange rays relax on the horizon and coat soft clouds spreading up above, shades of blue from light to deep, deep ocean covers the skies. In no time Ichigo gently pushes a small metal gate already unlocked, walking along the dirt paths. Warm, cinnamon eyes glance around the tombstones, shrines, sculpted angels and reapers, stones built upon the dead. Some are chipped, streaked with lousy graffiti colors and disrespectfully trashed which boils Ichigo's blood to high extremes. The ginger tames the heat for one person, fixing up any broken offerings, arranging tipped over vases and any other damaged gifts for the departed. Yet none of this is new. 

Ichigo's pace slows, his instinct reaching down and leading him to a point where the journey ends. Deeply breathing, filling his lungs with rich oxygen, exhaling... Ichigo lowers himself, settling the colorful bouquet down, seating himself on the cool, dirt ground. His scowl melts entirely, brows furrowing instead as his rich brown eyes take in the sight in front of him. 

"Hey Mom..." Ichigo starts, shifting to hug his knees to his chest to comfortably sit in front of her miraculously untouched grave.

"School started up; Spring semester. Everyone’s still there, even in our third year... Guess we all want the unconventional life.

I guess Goat-Face’s charm worked, y’know. Your grave wasn’t touched from those douchebags that keep messing around here... 

I know I can do better.”

Ichigo roughly wipes his eyes.

“Even though you always said I did enough... There’s always something more I can do.

Like, y’know... There’s this guy. He’s taller than me, on the opposite side of the spectrum hair, just as a bright but blue. Sky blue. He’s a dancer, actually. 

Even though I sometimes hate his guts and he just irritates me to know end, he knows his shit. Like really knows what he’s doing... Maybe you’d like him. I think you would’ve if you met him. 

Anyway, yea... I know I can do better with myself, like a piece of a puzzle I’m trying to find and put together. Something to salvage in some capacity. Like something’s missing.”

Ichigo softly chews his lower lip. A breeze takes a few leaves off of nearby trees.

“I think I know what it is. 

I think you do too, if you’re the one who’s been calling the shots up there and y’know, guiding me somehow.

I don’t know, you think I can do it?

Play pretend, create something again. Remember when... when I created Shiro? My twin? ... Yea. Used to talk too much with myself back then. Well, I mean, talk to him. You always said he would’ve been my actual twin or something like that.”

Ichigo plays with the end of his sleeve.

“Grimmjow- that’s his name, Grimmjow... Grimm’s making this dance performance, and it’s actually... Interesting. He has this whole team already but his roommate told me he needs a visual artist and, like, I declined.”

Too strong of a silence wraps and softly squeezes around his neck.

“Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have been an asshole about it, but it happened. But...

You think I should? Work with him? 

I’m just... I don’t know... 

I know what you want me to do though, you don’t need to let leaves fall on me to let me know that.

Fuck- I mean... Shit, I don’t know... I want to recreate what’s real... For you. You know that. 

Okay, _OKAY_! I get it. I just... You really think so?

It won’t... hurt, I guess. 

... How about this.

Everyone’s been pressuring me about this shit, so if I get one more push from anyone... or anything, then I know it’s you and I’ll go for it.

It’ll be for you too.

Thanks... I love you, Mom."

He smiles as soft, warm liquid falls from his eyes down his cheeks. 

"I’ll tell Dad and the girls that you said hi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a reminder that there will be no update next week!
> 
> updates might be slow as well as summer vacation is nearing the end in a month and i have to get next semester in order, as well taking time and make sure this story gets enough breathing room to process and edit. however I will try and keep updating weekly.
> 
> see you soon!


	7. Possible Solutions Under Difficult Circumstances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!!
> 
> San Diego Comic-Con? HUGE SUCCESS. Bought all the Bleach merch, saw all the panels I wanted, hung out with my amazing friends: one of the best SDCCs for me. I feel so renewed of creative energy!
> 
> Now it's been a week and I'm very happy to update! :)
> 
> This chapter's a bit on the shorter side? I think, I don't know.
> 
> Anyway, here ya go! Thank you again for all of your support via comments, kudos, however you wish to support!

"Pass the Malbec...!" A whining, begging voice echoes between living-room and kitchen walls. 

"Fuck no." Grimmjow bends down and stores the half used Malbec waaaay behind pots and pans in a cabinet. 

"MEANIE."

"Shut up, woman." Grimmjow spits back, slamming the cabinet door that decides Nel's fate for the night: no more booze. Boohoo.

The green haired woman groans in aggravation, flopping backwards onto the living room floor. Ash brown eyes examine their boring ceiling. "Nnoi gets to have more alcohol than I do..."

"Because, surprisingly, knows how to not break shit when he's drunk. He just picks fights." He drops a cushion next to Nel before he sits down on it, eyeing his roommate. "You can't keep breaking shit in this house."

Nel shoots her tongue, flinching with a scrunch of her face. "Asshole..." She rubs her forehead. "... You haven't drank anything tonight."

_You haven’t had a drink in a while._

Ironic. Simply ironic that a person is normal having a drink every now and then, while a rough time is indicated by lack of drinking. Damn. 

That person is Grimmjow, who now sits in awe staring at Nel as though she dived into his pool full of secrets. He’s open to her, but not _that_ vulnerable. Is he losing his touch? Grimmjow snickers over, glancing away with a dismissive wave. “So? Isn’t that good?”

“You’re not an alcoholic, thank god, but c’mon, it does help take the edge off. Look at you!” Nel gestures frantically with a drunken flush of the face. “You’re normal by normal people standards now! It’s a shame, really.”

Grimmjow once again waves with dismissive intent, nodding a tad side to side. “Yea, yea whatever. Change the subject or I’m going to my room and slam my door so loud you’ll regret drinking tonight.”

Aw, there it is: that pout of hers. He’s seen her childhood photos. She still has that pout and cry baby face whenever she’s down or extremely sad to tears. “Fine.” She huffs and crosses her arms under her chest. “... How’s dancing with Itsygo?”

“ _Fuck you_.” The man hisses while pointing finger. 

“You mean _Itsygo_?” Never mind the lisp. She smirks so smugly that Grimmjow wants to smack her with a pillow. He does, actually, though so gracelessly that Nel clutches it with ease. “Come oooooon.” She takes the pillow and snuggles into it. “Anyone with adorable eyes can see what’s between you two.”

“Nothing’s between us. He’s learning, I’m learning. It’s class.” He, too, crosses his arms as a defensive wall against her crushing offensive attacks. 

“Yea yea...” Nel teasingly waves over. “Save it for the Cupid’s flying around. They’ll shoot you two down and you’ll fall in looooooove.” As emphasis she whirls around, flailing arms in the air with circular patterns. Giggles escape her smiling lips. Soon enough she curls up with cackling laughter on the floor. 

Grimmjow sighs with a shake of his head, pushing himself up to walk towards his room. All he gets is a step, feeling a pull from his sweatpants.

“Oi.”

He blinks, glancing down.

“Seriously... Don’t mess this up.” 

Something about her eyes... Liquid drunkenness suddenly evaporated and now this harden resolved pierces through Grimmjow’s soul. Shit, she’s still got it. Able to withstand anything and still get the message across in full force. Grimmjow forcefully gulps down whatever’s clogging his throat. With a nod he strides away, escaping Nel’s grip with ease as he makes way to his bedroom. She’ll be fine. 

Will he be fine?

The question is answered with a dust of sunlight through slight opened blinds. No, he won’t be fine. Not when the shining sun screams hello to his sleeping face, causing said poor human to retreat under his dark grey covers. Natural light floods the messy bedroom of Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Overly stacked laundry, disorganized bookshelf, a slanted full body mirror in the corner and other miscellaneous papers and bullshit spread throughout the room. Spring cleaning is in order. He’s stalling as long as possible. Grimmjow curls up even more like a grumpy, tired cat as four knocks bang his door. Something about ‘getting the fuck up’ from Nnoitra. Doesn’t he know it’s the weekend? Christ.

Even through closed doors, a faint smell of freshly brewed coffee slips through the door and spreads throughout the room. Inhaling such a beautiful scent, Grimmjow transforms from said grumpy cat into an actual human being, sitting with a stretch of his arms and grunts of exhaustion. The man yawns with a sigh, rubbing his crusty eyes. Shit. He clocked out. Has this past month been that stressful? Usually with a drink or two— 

That’s right.

He hasn’t drunk anything. As stated by Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck herself. 

What a bitch this shit is.

A heavy sigh escapes his lips as he swiftly gets off the bed, grabbing a pair of shorts and a tank top to quickly wear. The smell of coffee and champion breakfast almost floors Grimmjow. He stomach growls in approval. Upon arriving, he spots the cook of the household. Nelliel in her overly seized green sweater and grey sweats whipping up some eggs, bacon sizzling on a pan, a couple of pancakes on a plate, a couple bowls of oatmeal prepared and decorated with a variety of fruits and seeds are all within reach. Grimmjow gathers his portions together and takes a seat at the table. 

“What did I do to deserve a breakfast for champions?” He asks, already shoving some pancake into his mouth. 

“Yea right, I’m really hungry and I’m the one who’s cooking. You’re welcome by the way.”

He doesn’t need to see her sarcastic grin. It’s already oozing from her words. Then again... 

Realization hits him like a speeding bus. “Wait, Nnoitra was supposed to cook this morning!”

“He had plans this morning.”

“The bastard.” Grimmjow mutters, spooning oatmeal into his mouth.

“Annnywhooooo,” Nel sing-songs, holding two plates with eggs and bacon, “What’s the deal so far?” She settles a plate for Grimmjow and immediately dives into her dish full of egg and bacon. 

He lifts a brow before waving with a fork full of pancake. “Gathering ideas with designers. Edrad has some kick-ass props. Di-Roy with good lighting designs, and Shawlong proposed the idea for live music instead of recorded music. We'll see, I'm pretty attached to some tracks already."

“That’s great!” She sips on a cup of orange juice. “What about the set?”

Grimmjow continues his breakfast with a shrug. “... Don’t know.”

“Maybe Itsygo might—“

The loud **BANG** that momentarily vibrates the table and almost spills both their drinks makes Nel jump. “ENOUGH about Kurosaki. Shit, I don’t wanna work with him...”

The brutal glare he gets in return makes the man shudder, straightening some of the items on the table. “Sorry...” He whispers over.

Satisfied, Nel flashes a smile and continues breakfast. Grimmjow does the same. There it is again. Awkwardness. Despite the clicking of silverware to plate, clacking of cup to table, mouths chewing on delicious food, the tension of awkwardness squeezes Grimmjow’s inner organs. It’s a miracle he can still breath normally.

“I think he’s sweet.”

Blue ocean eyes glance up towards his roommate.

“He’s creative, thoughtful, and hard working... I’ve never seen someone asks so many questions in class yet he absorbs it like a sponge. His movement is improving.” Nel states with a thoughtful nod.

Grimmjow narrows his eyes at her. She’s doing it again.

“... He hasn’t let go yet.” 

Woah. She hasn’t used that tone since— 

“What do you mean? You said he’s perfectly fine.” 

“Improving, not ‘Fine,’ Grimmjow.” Shit. She’s using his first name. FULL first name. “You must be blind or something.” Nel continues playing with her food.

“Am not.” Grimmjow hardens his glare.

“Are too.” She grins playfully for a second before it returns to a soft frown. “It’s like he’s hiding something. Yoruichi almost broke him last week, remember? Kept making him moving until he just froze... Granted, she only does that when she can see potential, there’s good intentions... But he’s not entirely use to this. I don’t know. Hopefully it doesn't happen again.” The woman shrugs. “Maybe he was just having a bad day.”

Throughout her words Grimmjow stopped playing with his own food. He rests his chin on his palm, almost covering his mouth as crystal eyes watch Nel. He shrugs over at the suggestion.

“Yoruichi’s right.” Nel voices. She straightens sitting posture as she clasps her hands together. “He needs to be pushed to his limit. If he already knows his artistic limit with other art, he needs to know for this too.” Ash brown eyes suddenly glare into blue eyes, daggers that almost nip at Grimmjow’s throat. “That means you gotta stop being an asshole to the poor Berry!”

“Hey! That's MY nickname for him!” The man guards himself with a fork pointing at her. Hopefully that hides the settle warmth on his cheeks, the faintest of blushes. “You’re the one who made this discovery so _you_ go do the shit.”

“Nah.” Nel replies nonchalantly as she gathers empty plates with some leftovers, traveling to the kitchen. Grimmjow hears the water running, scrubbing of plates and cups. “You do it! Maybe he’ll blush if you stop being a prick.”

He growls lowly at the woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seriously to everyone: thank you for all of your support and comments :) your words make my days and supports the story more than you can imagine! i love you all

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! A short chapter to kick things off. Comments and/or constructive criticism is appreciated! Chapter Two will be posted sooner rather than later, and updates will most likely be weekly. Have a nice day!


End file.
